The Fifth Man
by mabelreid
Summary: Rossi sets up a poker game with his old friend TC Fornell. McGee is pressed into playing as the needed fifth man, with Gibbs and Dr. Spencer Reid rounding out the invitees. One Shot takes place this season.


**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

 ** _A/n this takes place at the beginning of this season, number fourteen for NCIS and twelve for CM._**

SSA David Rossi of the BAU settled plastic safety glasses over his eyes and slipped on ear protection. He raised his Glock and squeezed the trigger. He felt the shots vibrate in his arms and heard them as muffled booms in his ears. After emptied the magazine into the paper target shaped like the torso and head of a human being, he removed his protection and pushed the button to retrieve the target.

"David Rossi, as I live and breathe," said a voice to his right.

"T.C. Fornell," Rossi grinned. "What are _you_ doing down here?"

"Even the Director himself must practice occasionally, and I have to recertify now that I'm back."

Rossi studied at his old friend with a critical eye. He looked thin, with a little less gray hair and haunted eyes. Then he smiled and slapped David on the shoulder. "Stop staring at me like I'm an old man."

"You _are_ an old man," Rossi pointed out. "We're both ancient and should've quit long ago."

Fornell laid his Sig Sauer on the shelf next to a row of the plastic safety glasses and took Rossi's target. "Looks like you've still got it."

Seven of the bullets had found their mark dead center of the chest and three in the head. Rossi smirked at him. "I have to show up those youngsters in the BAU."

"I hear that."

Rossi stayed silent as Fornell slapped a new clip into his gun, and put on his eye and ear protection. He looked at Rossi, who donned his ear protection. He watched as one of his oldest friends in the Bureau put ten bullets into the target, all of them in a tight circle over the heart.

"Haven't lost your touch."

Fornell simply shrugged and returned his gun to its holster. "It'll get me recertified tomorrow."

"How are you? I heard about Trent Kort and his attempt to kill you."

"I'm fine. I'm ready to go back to work."

David nodded. "I'm glad to hear it. Say, why don't we have one of our poker nights. We haven't played in _ages_."

"I'm game, but we need five."

David smirked at him. "I know a young man that'd be perfect. His name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and he's a competent player."

Fornell narrowed his eyes at Rossi. "I think I've heard of him; genius whiz kid brought in by Jason Gideon. I've also heard he's from Vegas and a card shark."

"Yes, he's a fine profiler, and he's a genius, but a card shark," Rossi nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "No. We play for junk food on the jet; it's hardly high stakes poker. In any case, it doesn't take a card shark to beat you, TC."

"I'll have you know that the last time we played, I was off my game."

"You sure were," Rossi agreed and earned himself a death glare from Fornell.

"Just for that, I get to pick someone to put against your genius profiler."

"Who?"

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Rossi nodded. "I heard you recovered at his place. You were there for a few months, is the rumor."

Fornell grimaced. "Yes."

"What happened?"

"Don't try to use your profiler skills on me," Fornell demanded. "I don't want to talk about it."

"All right. I guess that leaves us a man short."

"I'll ask Gibbs, and maybe one of his team will join us, if not it'll be up to you to find a fifth."

Rossi shrugged. "You've got a deal. I'll call you later."

NCISCMNCISCM

Fornell stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen at NCIS headquarters. Most of the employees were going about their daily tasks, except for four familiar faces. They were having a discussion that he couldn't discern. Then he saw that Gibbs entered the room from the opposite direction. He smiled broadly when his friend walked up behind McGee and said something that had the younger man scrambling for his desk.

"Jethro," he called and watched as all eyes snapped up to watch their boss's reaction. "I see you're hard at work like always."

"Agent Fornell," McGee greeted. "How are you?"

"Ready to get back to work."

"Then what are you doing here?" Gibbs asked.

"You're always so welcoming," Fornell shot back at Gibbs. "Makes me regret I decided to invite you to Agent Rossi's poker night."

"You came all the way down here just to invite me to a poker game," Gibbs asked.

"Yes, because we need a fifth and I thought it would be easier to find one among your team."

Bishop, McGee, Torres and Quinn looked at each other. Bishop broke first, "I don't play poker."

"I have plans," Torres said.

"You don't know when the game is," Fornell growled.

"Yes, well, I'm certain I'm busy for the next six months."

"How about you?" Fornell directed at Quinn. "It's Friday night."

She looked at Bishop who had her face in a file folder. Torres shrugged his shoulders and avoided her eyes. McGee kept his face to his computer screen. "Ah, sorry. I have a date."

"McGee?"

The new senior agent looked at Gibbs with an expression of a deer in the headlights. "Do what you want?" Gibbs said.

Fornell approached his desk and said quietly. "You wouldn't want to ruin his night."

McGee swallowed, smiled thinly and nodded his head. "I believe I have Friday night free."

"Well, good. We'll be playing with David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid."

McGee perked up. "I remember him from a seminar I took at Georgetown University. He taught a class on criminal psychology last year. It was fascinating really, you see -"

"McGee," Gibbs said, and Tim's mouth snapped shut. "Right, boss, I'm on Lt. Scarsdale's financials and cell phone records.

"The rest of you have something to do," Gibbs directed at the team.

Fornell almost laughed at how they all snapped to attention and began to work as if their very lives depended on it. "See you Friday, Jethro. Eight o'clock at David Rossi's home."

NCISCMNCISCM

McGee decided he liked David Rossi and his house, particularly the den. It was dark, masculine and had a real poker table - green felt top and all - in the middle of the room. He also felt a bit of awe at playing poker with another best-selling author who wrote books on profiling that were deserving of their status.

"Hello," said a voice from behind him and he turned to see Dr. Spencer Reid enter the room. "Agent Timothy McGee, right, also known as Thom E. Gemcity?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I've read your books, and I remember you from that seminar at Georgetown. You were sitting in the second row, third seat and you took notes."

"You remember that?"

"He's got an eidetic memory," said David Rossi.

His host carried a tray full of crackers, cheeses, and what looked like authentic antipasti. It joined another tray on a mahogany stained wet bar. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Beer," they said together and smiled at each other.

"We're waiting on Fornell," David said. "Why don't we sit? I'm sure he'll –"

The door bell rang. "That's him now, I presume."

It was Fornell. McGee blinked to see him dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt open over a white tee shirt and running shoes. He carried a bottle in his hands and gave it to Rossi.

"Thanks, TC, but you didn't have to go to the trouble."

"You agreed to host this shindig, and that's my host gift. I know how much you appreciate scotch. It's eighteen-year-old single malt."

"I'm sure it's wonderful."

They chatted for a minute, then sat down for the game. "We play straight poker," Fornell began, "nothing fancy and nothing wild."

"Agreed," Gibbs said.

Spencer nodded, and McGee began to feel like he might be in over his head. He took his place between Spencer and Fornell and waited for the first hand to begin. Rossi handed Spencer the cards, and as McGee watched him make the cards fly through his hands like he was born with them, he realized he should have asked more questions about their game. It was _too_ late now.

"Stop showing off, Spencer and deal the cards," Rossi said. "Ante up boys."

McGee took a pull on his beer and hoped that somehow he'd stay in the game long enough not to embarrass himself or lose all his money.

Three hours later, McGee finished his third beer and popped a pickled red pepper from the antipasti tray in his mouth. He was down to his last twenty dollars, and his hand was pitiful. "I fold," he said at last and sat back to watch Gibbs, Fornell, and Spencer duke it out.

Despite the fact that Fornell had invited him to play poker with a Las Vegas born card shark and a genius to boot, he liked Spencer. The profiler wasn't intimidated by Gibbs, which made McGee smile. Sometimes Gibbs scared him green, and at other times, they clicked in a way that only came from nearly fourteen years working together. He wished that he could read his boss and figure out if he had a hand to beat Spencer. Fornell folded, and Rossi dropped out, leaving Spencer and Gibbs to face off across the table.

"I'll see your ten and raise you twenty."

Gibbs stared at his cards, then gave Spencer what McGee recognized as his "try to lie to me, and I'll take you down so hard you won't know what hit you," look. He winced and took another pull from his beer.

"Twenty and thirty more," Gibbs said as his chips joined the others in the middle of the table.

"Call."

Gibbs laid down his cards, and McGee choked on his cracker and cheese. The cards showed a full house aces and eights, the dead man's hand.

Spencer swallowed, drank his beer and then smiled. "Straight in diamonds."

McGee's left eyebrow went up. He grinned at Spencer, then caught his boss's eyes. He moved his eyes to look at the landscape painting directly across from him on the wood paneled wall. If he pretended to be invisible, maybe Gibbs wouldn't decide to head slap him.

Spencer took the pot and grabbed the cards. "Another game?" He asked them but kept his eyes away from Gibbs.

"Not me," Fornell said. "I'm out."

"Me too," McGee said. He lost nearly half his last royalty check and Delilah wasn't going to be happy with him.

"I"ll play," Rossi said.

"I'm in," Gibbs said calmly.

McGee winced again. He hoped that Spencer could profile his tone. Otherwise, he might not realize the danger.

Rossi dealt the hand as Tim watched. Rossi dropped out again after the first round of bidding. McGee watched him watching Gibbs and Spencer. He noticed that Agent Rossi smirked and for the first time he wondered if all of it was a setup.

He was sure it was a setup when Gibbs won the hand, and Rossi decided not to play the next game. Spencer dealt the next hand, and when Gibbs opened the bet, Spencer moved shuffled the cards in his hands, reordering them, while keeping a close eye on Gibbs.

"Raise you fifty," he said to Gibbs.

"All in," Gibbs said. "Show me your cards."

Reid put down a Royal Flush, and McGee nearly cheered. Gibbs's facial expression didn't change, but he laid down his cards face down. "Take it."

"Well, that was fun," Rossi said with a smirk.

"Yes, it was."

Gibbs looked left at Fornell. "Is this because I let your daughter trick you into leaving my home."

"Yes," Fornell replied without fear.

Gibbs smiled, and McGee decided that it might be a good idea not to make eye contact with his boss. Spencer was studying both men with something that was akin to a man watching a particular fascinating science experiment.

"You're the one that married her mother."

"You married her first," Fornell reminded him.

Gibbs chuckled. "She got you back on your feet and back at work, which is more than I could do."

"I told you, I was enjoying my vacation."

"Hey, truce you two," Rossi interrupted. "We're here for a friendly game."

Fornell shrugged. "I've had my fun."

"I say we open that bottle of scotch and have a drink," Rossi said.

NCISCMNCISCM

"So," McGee directed at Spencer. "Did Rossi tell you about Gibbs or did you profile him?"

"Yes, he told me, but I profiled him, too. He's a tough one to read, though."

"I think you did a _great_ job."

Reid shrugged. "Winning at poker is easy."

"Even against Gibbs."

Spencer grinned at him. "Yes."

"Want some of that Scotch?"

Reid grimaced. "No, I _hate_ the taste of the stuff."

McGee nodded. "I agree. Why don't we stick to beer."

"That's a great idea."

They clinked their bottles together and laughed when Fornell said to Gibbs. "Now that Dr. Reid is chatting with McGee, why don't we have a real game. The loser grills the next steak dinner."

"Then I better win because _you_ can't cook," Gibbs replied.

Rossi chuckled, McGee took a very long drink from his bottle, and Spencer smirked at all of them. "I can't wait to see this," Rossi said.


End file.
